To Teachers to Make Much of Birthdays
by Bergere
Summary: OS. Today, on the 24th of July, it's Albus' birthday... and Minerva is in search for the non-existent perfect present for her boss and friend. No present, an official reception, a chessboard and a poem... what does it lead them to? Happy Birthday ALENA!


_A/N:_

_Hello everybody... this is a short and simple One-Shot on Minerva and Albus... But, mostly, it's a birthday present for a very good friend of mines, named **Dream's Girl**, over here! So, Alena, I wish you a happy birthday and I hope you'll enjoy that! It's a little suprise (I've been fighting hard not to talk to you about it before!!) and I hope you'll find it good! Just tell me!_

_For the others, of course you can read :D Personally, I enjoyed writing and the poem I've used is one of my favourites! I'm no native-english speaker, but I assume I'm not so bad... But of course if there are huge and horrid mistakes of language, tell me!! _

_Now, have a good read, and tell me whatever you thought: good, bad, etc. _

_See you! Bergère._

**To ****Teachers to Make Much of Birthdays **

Minerva McGonagall had always had a practical analysis and point of view on everything. She just looked at all possibilities and easily chose the best one. She was great at such things. Or, at least, she was great whenever it dealt with clear proper things, like teaching, or Transfigurations, or so on. But of course, when it came on more personal matters, it was much more difficult. Have you ever tried to be practical when you try to understand people thoughts and wills? Well, do not, that just wouldn't help you a bit. She did things that way though… because she couldn't really do it in any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HAPPY~BIRTHDAY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was his birthday. Well… truth was that it would be in a few days, by the 24th. It wasn't so much of a problem… but still. The fact was that it would come soon, and she had no proper present (which is to say no present at all). She wasn't that much to be blamed, of course: finding a proper present for such a man was uneasy. She had tried out and yes, she knew it was hard, thank you very much. Being aware of the problem didn't truly make it easier to sort out: she simply couldn't find something suitable.

So, yes, it was proved now: finding a birthday present to her friend and boss Albus Dumbledore was something complicated enough to drive Minerva McGonagall mad and for her chignon to be in utter disorder, as students would have said.

She just could not find a little-tiny-bit-of-the-beginning-of-an-idea.

.

As a matter of fact, she had thought in absolutely everything, but it didn't suit. She had made a practical analysis on what would suit for such a purpose. And the said-analysis had driven to absolutely nothing. She wouldn't dare trying to think in a simple pleasant present, and… things were growing quite difficult. The list of possible ideas, which she had erased one by one, was quite short to tell truth.

Socks. Yes, he did spend the whole winter talking about warm socks… but she wouldn't give _him_ socks as a birthday present, could she? Well, of course she couldn't! Socks! And what would come next? No, no… definitely not.

Books. After that, she had eventually thought of buying him a book. That sounded pretty good, at first, didn't it? But then, she had had to face some terrible reality: what book could you possibly buy for someone who knows everything better than anyone? Of course there was Divination, which he didn't know well, that was true. But she just wouldn't offer him some _'Introduction to Divination for old beginners'._ Merlin, no! That sounded so ridiculous! So, she'd had to forget about books (even though the amount of possibilities was much lighter once you'd decided there was no place for books).

Sweets. But, just as buying socks was ridiculous, offering him a pack of Lemon drops and so on was not even thinkable of. She simply couldn't imagine the shame on her face as he would unwrap up the gift.

But, once all this erased, then what? There wasn't much remaining, was there? She felt helpless; and the idea she didn't _have to_ give him something didn't occur to her. She felt a moral obligation, or something of that kind: she was deeply convinced that it was not a question of choice, and whatever you'd have said to change her mind, she'd have stated she _had to_.

Of course, if she hadn't spent the holidays in the castle maybe she would just have sent a letter. A plain and simple birthday card would have done very well, of course. But as her home had been half-destroyed by Death Eaters a few weeks ago, she had to stay in here. And there was only the two of them (apart from Horace, Peaves, the ghosts and the house-elves): really, she couldn't escape giving him a gift.

.

Anyway: she was torturing herself with that idea, and she simply couldn't get rid of it just as she couldn't get a present. School was over of course, and by the 19th of July she had no teaching obligations. Even as deputy headmistress, she had nothing to do. Usually she read, she learnt and went back home. But since this year her home was unavailable… well, she was here. And as she had heard the date of his birthday, of course, she felt obliged to do something.

.

She sighed with a disappointed expression. There were 5 days left… she would find something until there. Yes, she would… Sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HAPPY~BIRTHDAY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up at 6. She always did: she had taken the habit of it and now, even on holidays, she couldn't help it. As she didn't need so much sleep to feel well, it wasn't too much of a problem. That day, however, while she left the bathroom to get dressed, the reality (the sleep had made her forget about) struck her: today was the 24th of July. She muffled and swore in a quiet tone. She hadn't found anything. Of course not… These 5 days had been spent in totally ineffective researches; and now she had nothing.

She got dressed and decided, as there was no other possibility, just to wish him a happy birthday. Of course she wouldn't see him before lunchtime… She sincerely doubted that a great idea would come to her mind until there, but one could hope when one was totally helpless…

Once her hair properly dressed, she sat in an armchair, and took the Daily Prophet that had been left on the tee-table: there was nothing in it, of course. They occupied nearly half of the newspaper with a bit study of the cauldron market; and in the rest, there were some short news items absolutely pointless. And of course, there was one page on Tom Riddle's misdemeanour, mostly disappearances and sometimes death. She looked at the list of victim (happily enough quite short). At once, there was no one she knew; because it wouldn't have been the first time.

She sighed: she really hoped her former classmate (well, he was one year less than her) would stop this foolish behaviour. Grindewald had been defeated a few years ago: there was really no need of a new Dark Lord. And of course, the ministry didn't like people to know too much of it… That was why there was only one page on the subject.

The very last page was occupied by an article she'd never seen before. She frowned and looked a bit puzzled at the piece of paper. It was named _'The Daily Muggle Poetry contest'_. Truth was that the title didn't really match because there only was a muggle Poem on the page. Was that supposed to enlarge wizards' vision on the muggle world? She didn't know, but doubted it would really be effective: one decided to enlarge his vision or refused to. A poor daily poem wouldn't change much one's opinion. She had personally been quite fond of poetry in her youth. She looked at the said-poem. It was a 17th century cavalier-poet's: not very realistic, but nicely done. Not so much of her age… but still. She'd like Herrick when young, and remembered that poem quite well.

"_**To Virgins, to Make Much of Time**_

_Gather ye rosebuds while thee may,  
Old Time is still a-flying:  
And this same flower that smiles to-day  
To-morrow will be dying._

_The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,  
The higher he's a-getting,  
The sooner will his race be run,  
And nearer he's to setting._

_That age is best which is the first,  
When youth and blood are warmer;  
But being spent, the worse, and worst  
Times still succeed the former._

_Then be not coy, but use your time,  
And while ye may, go marry:  
For having lost but once your prime,  
You may for ever tarry._

_(__Hesperides__, 1648)__ "_

Yes, it was quite delightful. She really wasn't concerned anymore (had she ever been, she sometimes wondered), but the delicacy of the sounds and the beauty of the verses still made their nice little effect. She smiled a bit, vaguely thinking in the past, and then put the paper back on the table. It only was 8… what could she do? A walk outside sounded nice. She was opening the door when she thought she'd maybe see him and that as she had no present… She therefore shook her head violently: that was purely childish. Staying locked into her quarters wouldn't change anything to the fact she'd finally see him – without having a present of any kind.

And, maybe (because one would hope, you know), the warm air of the outside would inspire her. Perhaps she'd get a wonderful idea. Of course she didn't really believe in it, but well. She sighed and walked to leave the castle and go to the gardens.

But of course, as it seemed that she had an obvious lack of luck, she saw him: he was walking down the corridor, and seemed to be heading to the large doors, which meant he was going just where she went. She looked all around her: there was no way to escape. Plus, it would be really completely infantile and purely silly to run from him. She breathed. It was time to accept she had no present (that was alright); but also that she _wouldn't_ have one. She tried to do some self-conviction, but couldn't really make up her mind that it wasn't _that_ important.

.

'Minerva! I'm glad to see you here!'

'So do I Albus,' she simply replied. There was a little bit of silence, and he seemed to be looking in nowhere.

'How are you?'

'I'm fine.' She paused and glanced at him. It was the moment. 'Happy Birthday, Albus'.

He smiled. A big, nice, sweet piece of a smile: to tell truth, he appeared to be delighted. She thought it very possible that she was the first one to tell him on today. Also, she'd known him for quite a deal of time now, and it was the foremost year she knew about his birthday. Finally, he shook his head and without stopping smiling, he quickly grabbed her hand and pressed it for an instant before releasing it.

'Thanks a lot Minerva, that's too nice of you.' She wondered, for a moment, if she wasn't blushing in half-shame; but she soon had her nearly neutral countenance back, and she replied in a voice she maintained as plain.

'Well, I have no gift of any kind, you know.' He just laughed as she said so. She stared at him quite disappointed, and was glad that it didn't last too long.

'That's not a problem at all. I'd deal very well with a cup of tea and a chess game in your company. In the afternoon, I'm afraid, when I'll be back from the reception at the ministry.'

'The reception?' she asked.

'Officially a birthday party,' he said, 'but more truly a masquerade to show everybody that I'm in good terms with the Ministry,' he added with a smirk.

'Oh,' she just said. It was the kind of party where she wouldn't have come, just to show she wasn't an advertising object.

They stayed like that, none of them moving, for a few minutes. She was thinking in the Ministry and the political ways that tended to drive her mad. She was someone straight and sincere (even though she sometimes hid her feelings, she felt one had to be truthful), and such subterfuges really weren't her cup of tea. Of course she sometimes went, but… she disliked it. In front of her, he seemed to be deeply lost in his thoughts; but suddenly, he broke the silence.

'Would you go with me?' She stared at me, and words split out before she could possibly prevent them from escaping her.

'I do not really fancy this kind of silliness.'

'Nor do I,' he answered smiling. 'That's why I'd like you to come. I'm supposed to be accompanied, but of course I had no one to go with.' He paused, and as he didn't seem to be inclined to go on, she nodded (not in agreement, but to mark she saw what he meant). He finally spoke again. 'I'm afraid I'm asking you to come to the most boring kind of party to save me from complete depression due to boredom.' She did the beginning of a smile: he has this art to make things look nice, nearly funny. 'I'd have some agreeable person to talk to if you came.'

She really smiled this time. He was also so much of a gentleman. He was all the time; but each time he had a word of that kind it half-surprised her. Oddly enough, she didn't get completely accustomed to it, and it always had a kind of freshness, like if it were the first time all over again. He seemed to think that she was hesitating on whether she should accept or not, so he added something.

'That'd replace a Birthday present.' He was teasing her of course, and she couldn't help a little smile. Truth was that, in her mind, there was no wondering on such a subject. He asked; she'd go. Why wouldn't she? After all, it was up to him if he wanted to participate to such a ridiculous social reunion.

'Of course I'll come. When is that?'

'Well, for lunchtime. I could meet you at 12 just here?'

'Sounds perfect,' she nodded. Just after that she began walking again, and it's just a few steps later that she became aware of the fact that she wasn't walking where she ought to go: the gardens. She stopped, nearly smiled at her own stupidity, and as Albus had disappeared, she authorized herself to turn round and walk in the opposite direction and then to the gardens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HAPPY~BIRTHDAY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She arrived in the Great Hall 5 minutes early: she was always very precise with hours, and there was no question of possibly being late. She'd made a little bit of an effort to look less severe than when doing class. She wore a black dress, of course, but it wasn't covering her whole neck. It touched the floor, but really suited her quite well. There were theoretically no sleeves, because it was a summer-dress, but as she didn't feel like going out like that, she had put a Spencer (which was also black but unfortunately had some little fanciful embroidery). The whole thing looked remarkably nice and refined.

Albus arrived just on time: he usually did.

'You look lovely,' he smiled.

'And you can't help lying in that gentlemanlike manner,' she teased him.

'I do not lie!' he exclaimed laughing. Then, more serious, he added: 'You truly look great like this.'

'Let's just say I believe you.'

He smiled, she smiled, and they began walking to the limits of the Castle in order to go to the Ministry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HAPPY~BIRTHDAY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been 3 hours, by now. And truth was that she was getting bored. Awfully bored to say truth! Well… of course there was Albus' companionship, and she was glad about that, or else she'd have driven mad a long time before. It was also perfectly accurate that she'd not been here if he hadn't asked… but she sincerely preferred not to think in such things: it would just make it clearer that she could have escaped that silly party.

Yes, she did understand, by now, why he had been glad to have her come: being with someone you quite liked made the whole thing more bearable. On your own, it'd just be completely awful. Awfulness in its entire splendor…

She had spent these two hours next to Albus, making absolutely no effort to smile whenever people took the pain to address to her. Most of them were only interested in Dumbledore, and in what saluting him and getting 'close' to him would help them in (mostly their career). She wasn't famous, she wasn't powerful, or didn't seem to be. She wasn't even his wife or something of that sort. That meant she was no interest to them. It didn't even surprise her: she was old and experimented enough to know the usual behavior of ambitious employees. She just acted as scornfully as they deserved to be treated, and wouldn't mind appearing as a stern disagreeable woman.

The only thing she had difficulties to bear was the futility of most of their talks (even though the way Albus slightly mocked them was quite delightful), and the former student of hers who didn't even say a distant hello: they practically avoided her, these young fellows eager to get success. They seemed to fear that saluting her would destroy all their fragile social position… or maybe they were afraid she'd make a remark on their way to behave. A former teacher remains a teacher in student's minds, isn't it?

There was just one former student of hers who had come to say hello. And, even more oddly knowing the atmosphere around, it seemed sincere. He had left school just a couple of years ago and was named Shacklebolt.

.

When Albus came to her saying they could at least leave, it was half past 4, and she was wondering if it'd last a little longer or if it was the end of hell! She nearly sighed in relief, and accepted quite well the habitual nonsense people babble when one leaves. A few seconds after leaving the room where the party was led, they were next to the Entrance of Hogwarts. He smiled jokingly at her.

'I never will thank you enough for coming.'

'Won't you?' she said, as if there was much more seriousness in his words than there truly was (no doubt he was sincere, but his way to speak was witty).

'You saved me from total despair,' he smiled. 'I think none of the ambitious lot will go very far. They are far too counterfeit in their ways.' She just nodded at that. 'Maybe Kingsley is of a better kind.'

'Kingsley?' she asked. She then searched in her memories for a couple of instants. 'Oh! M. Shacklebolt.' He smiled to confirm her sayings. She looked at him and seemed to wonder. 'Why would he have more chances?'

He didn't answer at first. He looked at the sky with a pensive air, and finally went back to her.

'See the sun? Next to it is Mercury; but we can't see it…' He was interrupted by Minerva.

'Albus, I did ask you something, in case you forgot.'

'I didn't,' he laughed. 'In fact, I am answering your question.'

She stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was going to invent this time. Some metaphor on the sun or the meaning of Mercury (even though she didn't quite see the link between the planet –or the Gods' messenger– and the young auror) she assumed.

'We can't see Mercury, because the Sun is bigger, more visible. If we really paid attention to it, I don't doubt we'd see it. But we tend to think what's important is what's impressive, famous.' After that he paused and she couldn't help trying to reduce the long explanations he was up to.

'The subject was Shacklebolt, basically.' He smiled at her.

'I'm aware of that.'

'And…?'

'He saluted you,' he just stated.

.

Her eyes widened a little and she looked puzzled for about a minute. He had a way to come to a conclusion which had no link with the previous explanations that was quite astonishing. He'd saluted her. Yes he had, thank you very much, she was aware of that… but then? She knew she could have found out by herself, but didn't really feel like doing so.

'Yes indeed. Is there any link between the sun, Mercury and M. Shacklebolt's salutation to me?'

'There is. You're considered as Mercury and I as the sun – wrongly, if you ask my thoughts. He paid attention to Mercury.'

Truth was that she didn't really know how to react to such a thing. She could instinctively feel that it was rather nice and even more than that. But good Merlin, was that supposed to have a subliminal meaning or, as she thought and hoped, not? Well… she did not have a clue and finally accepted she had no idea! That was all.

Silence fell on them for about 5 minutes, as they walked to the castle, and once more he was the one to put and end to it.

'I think I have a few papers to do… is 6 p.m. good for out chess game, if you haven't forgotten about it.'

'I haven't; and 6 p.m. is perfect for me.'

After that, they left: him for his office, her for her quarters. Finally, it seemed that she had been able to manage things without a present… A chess game wasn't what one could honestly name a birthday present, but if that was alright, then… well, then it'd be alright. She nodded to herself and took a book to occupy herself for the following hour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HAPPY~BIRTHDAY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They'd been sitting in front of their chessboard for about 2 hours now, but didn't really seem to be near the end of it. He had played slower than ever, even though he knew that wouldn't prevent him from loosing. He was now looking at the game, where half of the pieces still held their place, wondering what he'd play: he always made quite a nice piece of an effort to oblige her to think a bit before winning. Finally, his queen went from A3 to B4, which wasn't such a huge move, he thought. She therefore had a little smirk he could easily recognize and that meant no good for his queen, he guessed.

'Albus, you're done.'

'I assumed so even before beginning to play. Will we end up the game then?'

'Well yes of course,' she smiled but spoke in an unquestionable way.

'Then go on,' he said.

She just put her knight in said-B4, and the white queen joined the other whites. He looked at the chess for a second only and changed his king's place without even looking in where it now was. Immediately, she groaned.

'Minerva?'

'That was the _only_ move you were not authorized to make.' She was half-serious telling that, and immediately began concentrating on the board, looking for a solution. He smiled at her reaction, looked at her for about a minute, then took the Newspaper next to him, and began to take a distant look at it. Five minutes later, as she was still contemplating their chess game with much concentration, he interrupted her.

'Minerva?'

'Albus?' she said in a rather offensive tone because he obliged her to stop thinking.

'Do you like poetry?' She looked at him questioningly, and finally chose the larger answer.

'It depends on what poet and what poem.'

'I'd guess that,' he smiled. 'But do you tend to appreciate it?'

'Yes I do, as long as they are not modernists. Why that?'

'Nothing,' he said, and went back to the newspaper. She obliged herself not to tell him it was no use interrupting her for such a silly non-useful question: she just went silently back to her strategy.

It lasted another 5 minutes before he talked again. He was now holding the said-newspaper without reading it anymore, and seemed quite lost in thoughts.

'Minerva?'

'Yes, Albus,' she stated quite unhappy about the interruption. She then asked, 'What?'

'It was because of that.' He turned the paper to her, and she didn't look at it until she recalled what he referred to. It was the poem she'd read that very morning in the Daily Prophet.

'Herrick is nice…'

'Yes indeed,' he cut her.

'…But not so much for me anymore.' He looked at her, and she leaned back against her armchair, forgetting about finding chess strategy for the moment: he'd not let her do that now.

'What do you mean?'

She glanced at him: wasn't that obvious? Of course it was! He didn't really expect her to answer, did he? He most of the time did half of the conversation on his own. However, a second glance confirmed that he really _did_ expect an answer. Merlin, he _accurately_ was _in fact_ unbearable! Always asking the questions one shouldn't ask… And the worst of it was that you didn't even feel angry at him for such indelicacy and lack of tact. Or maybe it was she was too friend with him to get truly annoyed.

'It is quite obvious Albus.' He smiled, his eyes twinkling as they usually did when he felt proud of his words to come.

'Then, if it's what seems obvious, you're absolutely wrong.'

She suddenly began staring at him, feeling something like some inexistent blushing, and wondering if the way he blinked was due to some uneasiness for what he had said, or if it had no meaning at all. He hadn't left that little proud air of his.

'What do you mean?' she asked. Of course, she didn't really expect any answer… but that was the best she could manage to look natural.

'What do _you_ mean?' he copied in a perfect parallel.

'Albus, you _do_ know what I mean.'

'Yes indeed. And I deny any truth to it.' She just sighed: it was no use trying to sidestep the issue anymore. Not that he was true… but that she'd have to explain the why of the what.

'Well, let me tell you you're quite wrong in your opinion. I'm in a much better position than you are to judge that.'

'Here's the point,' he said with a little mocking blink.

'What point? Which point in the numerous ones you have?' He laughed a bit, looking like he was really enjoying himself. He had a little cough imitating a clearing of his throat, and took the newspaper again.

'"_Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old time is still…"_' he began, but was interrupted.

'I do know that poem by heart Albus, thank you very much.' She tried to say that so that he'd not try to go on with his previous subject, and stared at the chess board so that she'd look concentrated. Of course, because she was talking to Albus Dumbledore, that didn't work a bit.

'Do you?'

'Am I used to lie on such silly things?' she replied quite sternly, with a bored expression and making a good deal of efforts not to put her eyes on him.

'No, you don't. Then you know what I mean.'

She stopped looking at the game, and stared at him: she clearly was accepting her destiny, and understood she just had to _have_ that conversation.

'I do know what your words mean in a literal way. I'm wondering on the symbolic or Merlin knows what kind of meaning you've put in it.'

'There's not much this time, I'm afraid. I just think this can also be true for you, just as for young people.'

He really was somewhat annoying (even if she really wasn't _that_ annoyed, but wouldn't for anything in the world have accepted to say so), and she got an idea. The sentence nearly went trough her lips, and she was glad she could prevent it from being hearable. She nearly blushed at the thought of what she'd nearly said. The _'I'm no virgin, Albus!'_ part of the answer wasn't to be heard by anyone, and she just hoped her behavior wouldn't make it obvious that she had a rather odd thought a minute ago.

'Are you alright?'

'Why wouldn't I be?!' she nearly exclaimed.

'I don't know…'

'That's great.' She went back to the board, and finally moved a figure of hers. He smiled at that. Now she'd plays, he felt quite free to tease her a bit more. What bad would it do?

.

Exactness was that they were awfully close, as friends. To say even more exact would be to say that they were in love, completely and totally in love, very much like an old couple who's been living together for about 20 years. It was very much like that, except for the tiny detail that they were not a couple and were not even aware of the fact they were in love. It wouldn't have occurred to any of them that, at their advanced age (for him more than for her), they could possibly be in love. Well… at least for her, because she considered their relationship like friendship, and didn't see any reason why he wouldn't do the very same (as it didn't came to her mind that it could be something stronger).

He teased her, and she did as if she overreacted. But of course she didn't really, and found it rather cute. Well, of course, the word cute was banished from her vocabulary whenever she talked of Albus! He was a clever, interesting, sympathetic and joyful man. The word cute was totally inappropriate, wasn't it?

Anyway, at that moment, they were just playing chess. Or more likely, she was trying to play chess, and he was planning to chat.

.

'Minerva?'

'Your turn Albus,' she just replied.

'I'm aware of that, thank you very much.'

'I doubted it none.'

'So why did you say it?' he asked with a smile.

'Because I knew you were setting up some other thing than playing.'

'If you say so,' he took a quick look at the chess board, but didn't move anything. He leaned against his large headmaster's armchair. 'I think the poem applies to you as well!'

'Albus!' she exclaimed reproachfully.

'That's me indeed.'

'You are such a…' she began, but abandoned. 'Anyway, the poem has no reason to concern me: I am _not_ (in case you don't see it by yourself) a young woman, a _"rosebud"_ of any kind.' She said that in a most serious way, so that she'd not feel weird about such a sentence. Really, it looked strange saying that to your boss, even though he was also a friend, half a fool, and mostly just Albus Dumbledore.

'You're not that young nor old. Maybe you are… about 40?'

'Albus! No one talks of women's ages. That's pretty much tactless.'

'Not if it's flattering,' he said with a smile. With this smile that meant: '_you know I'm right'_. And indeed, he was once more.

'Let's say that. But that doesn't mean you're right.'

'But yet I am.'

'No Albus. I am not 20, you said so yourself.'

'20 years old women are girls,' he stated.

'I don't quite see your – surely wonderful – point.' He looked at her and had half a smirk.

'I meant what I said.'

'How nice!' she said ironically. But then she paused, breathed, and decided it was a much better idea to go back to the former and plain subject. 'It's still your turn.'

'Yes.' After that, he smiled, and looked at her. 'Do you want a lemon drop?'

'Albus!' she couldn't help it, she stood up. He had such childish ways… she couldn't properly believe that. He was the most talented wizard of his time, good Merlin! Why did he feel that need to be a silly kid so often?

Instead of trying to calm her down, which was a thing any other sensed person would have done, he also slowly got on his feet, and asked her, with a tranquil tone of voice what was wrong. The classical quiver of the nostrils was now clearly indicating he was succeeding in his goal to drive her mad. She preferred to remain silent, so that she wouldn't completely loose her temper, and invoking the fact it was his birthday as an excuse not to yell, which she could be great at. He walked to her, and as he did so took his king and moved it. Her eyes were on the board, and she immediately put her queen somewhere else.

'Checkmate.' After that, there was a short silence. He seemed not to react; but at the very moment when she was about to talk again, he did so.

'Yes indeed.' His tone of voice was strange: it looked like a mixing up of joy and melancholy. So strange, that she suddenly turned to face him as he was now behind her. And then, just then, there was a kind of odd pause in everything. You know that Hollywood film still they put whenever people are staring at each other's eyes and that we're expecting something to happen.

And, indeed, they were staring at each other's eyes. Except that she actually was about 45 and him some age near 90, and that they didn't really look like the cute couples you have in movie, it was very much like a Hollywood scene. Because of course, after some staring at one another's eyes, they did kiss. She remained dumbfounded, and if she'd been able to look she'd seen he also was. This was quite odd because their lips remained attached to the other ones'. She at last understood that she was in love. Well… maybe she didn't understand it, but the nice feeling that filled her wasn't just nonsense and daydream! It was a true, nice, complete feeling. When finally it stopped (and it was no use to ask which one stopped that kiss), she fell back on earth. Her mind had been quite disconnected with reality, and suddenly she felt both rather ashamed and ridiculous – and very intensely pleased, even if she wasn't to accept it just now.

'Albus!' He just smiled. He seemed perfectly at his ease, and that made her feel even less at _her_ ease. He happened to be satisfied, or appeared to be.

'And to say it's only now I understand I've been waiting for this very moment all these years!' He seemed to be discovering something, but she looked in total shock, even though she felt the very same. She could just repeat it.

'Albus…'

'That was a pretty nice birthday present indeed,' he said with a great smile before making their lips touch again.

"_**To Teachers to Make Much of Birthdays,**_

_Gather ye rosebuds while the__e may,  
All Times are good for loving:  
And this same flower that smiles to-day  
To-morrow will be enchanting._

_The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,  
The higher he's a-getting,  
The __longer will his race be run,  
And prettier he'll be lasting._

_That age is best which is the last,  
When youth and blood are stronger;  
But being spent, some best, and fast  
Times still succeed the former._

_Then be not coy, but choose your time,  
And when ye wish, go marry:  
For having lost but once your prime,  
You may live and be starry."_

_A/N (bis): So, just tell me! I wanted to add that this second poem is home-made, copied from To Virgins to Make Much of Time. I rather like it, so I'd also like to know what you think of it!! The little green botton is calling your name!! :D_


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